


Markiplier x FTM!Reader: Safe Boy

by KingOfHearts709



Series: Gender [4]
Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Cutting, Dysphoria, FTM, M/M, Trans, i relapsed, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relapse, retake, return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Markiplier x FTM!Reader: Safe Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Note: FTM is female to male ie transgender.  
> I relapsed.  
> That's all. xoxo

Dysphoria.  
It happened to a lot of people.  
Not that you weren't used to it, of course.  
You looked at yourself in the mirror and you hated yourself. You looked at your little curvy torso and thin arms and thick, jiggly thighs. Your contoured thin face and small, lashed eyes, your petite nose and tiny lips that graced a discomforted frown.  
Everything you hated.  
"(YN)?" a voice called. "Hey, if we're going to go see that movie, you've got to get ready."  
"Yeah," you said, running fingers through your short hair, running palms down the front of your binded chest. You let out a shuddering sigh and opened the bathroom door.  
"Ready?" Mark asked. You nodded.  
Two hours and one movie later had you and Mark tired and talking about oddly paced continuity. You yawned and looked down at your crossed legs in the car. You uncrossed them. Mark gave you a sideways glance, but didn't comment.  
"Night," Mark said, pointing to a bed. "Your fortress, my liege." You let out a laugh as he went into the other room. You went to go sit on the bed and lie down. You looked left, right, where something caught your vision.  
Little tacks.  
A little plastic case of tacks on the desk. You reached over, opened it, took one out. You picked at your nails, cleaning gunk out of them with the sharp end.  
You lifted your jeans and looked at your knee. Scratches from a cat, a bruise from tripping.  
Maybe a new harmful prick from the sharp tack in your hand.  
A minute later, one thin cut, on the verge of crying, and you heard a knock.  
"...(YN)?" Mark's voice came through softly. The bed dipped down under his weight and you felt the tack drop onto the floor.  
"I just cut myself after being clean for six months," you said, as if just realising the fact.  
"Why?"  
"I don't know." He hugged you. You hugged you.  
"Don't worry," he said. "You're still a man whether your body says so or not."


End file.
